September Tales
by vanpatt5
Summary: Mac/OC A series of oneshots concerning Mac's family. Contains OC from Shine Your Light.
1. September Tales

A/N: This is just a little something containing my character from _Shine Your Light_, but you don't really need to read that in order to follow this. Hope you like. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Boston and Maddy.

* * *

"Why is Daddy sleeping? Doesn't he know it's the afternoon?" Boston heard a quiet voice question from the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her youngest daughter, Maddy, standing in the middle of the master bedroom. Maddy looked nervous, as if maybe she should not be intruding in on her parents alone time. She kept fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt, a sure sign that she had something more to say. Like her father, Maddy was not a master of the words. She spoke only when she truly had something important to say. But, also like her father, she had a curious streak that ran through her and lead her to question everything. Maddy was never satisfied until she understood why and how something worked.

"C'mere, kid," Boston scooted in closer to Mac allowing her daughter some room to sit on the edge of the bed. She smiled gently as Mac tightened the hand around her waist and his breath tickled the hair on the back of her neck. "You know that Daddy works hard to protect you and me and your brothers and sister and everyone in the city, right?" Maddy gently nodded as she climbed her way onto her parent's bed. Usually she was only allowed to sit in their bed if she was sick or really scared, so this was something special. "Well," Boston continued, "sometimes Daddy works so hard trying to keep us safe that he forgets to sleep. He loves us all so much, that all he can think about is putting the bad guy in jail. So, it's our responsible, as a family, to take care of Daddy. Make sure he eats and sleeps and plays with y'all. Understand?"

"Yep. But why do you have sleep with him, too?" Maddy looked up at Boston with Mac's eyes and her heart began to ache a little. This had been an especially hard case for Mac. It had involved the brutal murder of a fellow cop's family. He had not slept for three days and Boston had never seen his eyes as icy as they had been when he told her about the case two nights ago. She had been so sure that when they finally found the killer, Mac would cross the line and do something he would later regret. In the end, she should have known that her husband was an honorable man and believed in the justice system. Still, he had never quite hugged her as hard as he had when he arrived home just a few hours ago.

"He worries about us so much that sometimes he can't sleep. But, if I sleep with him, he usually doesn't worry as much," Maddy gave Boston a questioning look, so she continued on. "It's like, if I am snuggled up to him, he knows that I am safe. He knows that he can protect me if something bad happens."

"I get it," Maddy sighed softly. She remained quiet for a few minutes, but Boston gave her time. She knew that something else was racing through Maddy's head and eventually she would spit it out. It really was shocking how much Maddy looked like Mac. Their other three kids had aspects of each of them that melded together beautifully. But, Maddy was all Mac. The same hair, eyes, thought process, attitude, stubbornness, gentleness, and loving heart. The two loved to read books together or watch the Discovery Channel; anything to learn something new.

"I hate September."

Boston almost had to laugh at the absurdity of the short statement. Maddy had been so nonchalant about the thing, too. As if she was merely noting her disdain for peas or her brother.

"The whole month?" Maddy gently nodded her head. Boston was still not sure she understood, "You hate the whole month of September? Why?"

Maddy fiddled with her pant legs for a second. She then let her hands drop to her sides and looked towards her father. "Daddy is always so sad in September. I even saw him cry last year. Daddies are _never _supposed to cry. Is there anything we can do to get rid of September? Can we write to anyone and ask them to leave it out?" Maddy's eyes had filled with tears and she looked up at her mother with such hope. Boston was sure that if it were physically possible, her heart would have literally broken in that moment.

She gathered her daughter into her arms, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, and softly whispered, "No. There is no one we can ask or write. Unfortunately we are stuck with September. Daddy loves you so much, you know? Even in September, you are still the world to him, right?"

Boston felt Maddy nod against her shoulder and mumble, "But why is he so sad?"

She was not quite sure how to field this question. All the kids knew of Claire, and Mac and Boston had even named their eldest after her. But, how much could a four year old really understand about death and love and moving on?

"You know Daddy's first wife, Claire?" She waited for a nod before continuing. "Well, your dad loved her so much. But then she had to go away in September. He thinks about her all the time, but it is really hard for him in September. He loves us, but he also loves and misses her."

"But how can he love so many people? What if she comes back? Will he go with her and leave us?" Boston had to strain to hear the last part through the sob that escaped her daughter's throat. She had no clue that all this insecurity was eating away at Maddy.

"Daddy has a huge, gigantic heart, so he can love all of us. Just because he still loves Claire doesn't mean he loves you or me or your siblings any less. In fact, everyday he finds something new to love about us. And Claire's not coming back. Where she went, you can't come back from or visit. Maddy, look at me," she waited until her daughter was looking straight into her eyes. "Daddy is never leaving us. You're stuck with him for life. You're stuck with both of us. Just get used to it," Boston lightly tickled Maddy's side and grinned hearing her daughter's laughter. "Anything else on your mind?"

"Yes. Did Claire go to New Jersey?"

Boston could not control the laugh that erupted from her. She flung her head back and laughed loud enough for Mac to mumble and shift in his sleep.

"Why do you ask that?" Boston asked after she had regained her control.

"Uncle Danny says that no one _ever_ returns from New Jersey."

* * *

A/N: What'd you think? If you guys want, I might write some more pieces like this. Thanks for reading!


	2. Sick Day

A/N: I decided that I would just post all my one-shots under _September Tales _to make it easier to find all the stories related to Boston. Thanks _so_ much for all the feedback. I can't even tell you how awesome it was to get so many reviews just for a one-shot. So, here's a little reward for being freakishly amazing! Enjoy!

Claire – 8 years old

Will – 6 years old

Maddy – 4 years old

Noah – 3 years old

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Boston and the kids.

* * *

"Detective Taylor," Mac barked into his phone.

"_Detective, this Mrs. Speedmen at Claire's school."_

Mac instantly panicked, "Is she okay?"

"_She's fine, but she is feeling a little sick. Someone will need to come and pick her up."_

Mac looked down at the dead body in front of him and rubbed his forehead. Usually Boston dealt with this sorta thing, but she was currently halfway across the country giving a speech at a history conference. Mac looked around the scene and debated whether or not to Danny could handle this on his own. "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can." Shutting his phone and shoving it into his pocket, he walked over to where Danny and Flack were discussing possible suspects. Both men stopped talking as he approached. "Danny, you're the lead on this one. I gotta pick up Claire."

"Is she okay?" Flack asked concerned. Ever since Claire had been born eight years ago, she was the princess of the lab. She was the first girl to be born into the team and had instantly captured everyone's heart with her smile.

"Nothing serious, she's just feeling a little under the weather. Call me if ya need anything." The men said their goodbyes and Mac quickly made his way to his truck. He always hated when his kids were sick. There was nothing that irritated him more than being out of control, and whenever one of them were sick, he always felt so helpless. He hated seeing them in pain and would have given anything to take it away.

Thirty minutes later Mac walked into the main office of the school and instantly saw Claire lying on the couch. Her knees were pulled into her chest and one of her arms was clutched around her stomach. Mac walked over to her, bending down he gently let his hand rest on her cheek. "Claire," he whispered.

Her eyes popped open. "Dad," she said with relief. "I don't feel good."

"I know. Let me go talk to Mrs. Speedmen and then we'll go home," Mac said gently. When Claire nodded her head, he leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. Mac could feel the heat radiating off of her and he knew that he'd most likely have to take tomorrow off too. Once he was done talking to Mrs. Speedmen, Mac carefully lifted Claire into his arms and carried her out to the truck. It had been a long time since he had carried her and Mac took a moment to treasure the feeling of his baby in his arms again. He also tried to ignore the fact that his back was starting to ache. He knew if Boston was around she would send him a smartass comment about the fact that he was getting old but would end up giving him a back massage later. After setting her gently in the truck and buckling her up, Mac went around to the driver's side and jumped in himself. Making a quick stop at the corner store to pick up some soup, medicine, and something for her to drink, Mac decided that he may as well go ahead and pick up the other kids at daycare.

* * *

"DADDY," the youngest, Noah, yelled from across the room and ran full steam ahead at Mac.

Mac bent down just time to catch the little guy. He gave Noah a hug and whispered in his ear, "I'm happy to see you, too, but don't yell or run. Okay, buddy?" Mac felt Noah nod into his shoulder and mumble a quiet "sorry." Will came walking up to Mac, holding Maddy's hand. Mac gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the head before telling them to get their stuff. Once they were all back in front of him with their coats and backpacks, Mac knelt down to look them in the eye. "Claire's sick, so you'll need to be extra quiet around her. Don't talk to her and don't touch her, okay? If you're really good, maybe we can order a pizza from Ray's for dinner. But you can't tell your Mom. Deal?" The kids all nodded their heads in agreement. Picking up Noah and grabbing Maddy's backpack, Mac lead his family out to the truck and helped them pile in.

* * *

Later that evening, Mac stealthy moved into Claire's room one last time. He leaned against the doorjamb and was thankful that there was just enough light streaming in from the hallway that he could make her out. Mac had always had a special bond with Claire. She was their first, but whenever Mac pictured her, he always imagined his little two year old baby running around in bouncing pigtails. He remembered the first time he had seen her. She seemed impossibly small to Mac and he had been hesitant to hold her, afraid that he would break her. Boston had read his mind and gently said, "Don't be nervous Mac. I'll always be by your side to help." Mac had gently cradled his new daughter in his arms and marveled at her beauty. She had his eyes and nose, but Mac had given a silent prayer of thanks that she had Boston's smile and hair. He ran his thumb softly over her cheek and mumbled, "I loved you even before I met you."

Mac had always been uncertain about naming her Claire. He loved Boston for making the gesture, but he wasn't sure that he would be able to say her name without a flash of pain coursing through his body. It wasn't until he had talked to Stella late one evening that it finally clicked for Mac. When the topic of baby names arose, Mac had divulged Boston's first choice and how uneasy he felt about it. Stella had looked at him, sighed, and shook her head. "For being so smart, you sure are stupid." Mac was taken aback by her comment, but Stella hadn't given him a chance to defend himself. "It's Boston's way of honoring Claire and the huge impact she had on you. She made you into the man that Boston is in love with, and she doesn't want to disrespect the bond that you still have Claire. It's not that she wants to cause you pain or make you think of Claire more often. I think it's her way of trying to help you start a new chapter in your life." Mac hadn't ever thought of it like that. He had never thought to ask Boston why it was so important to her to name their baby Claire, but now he got it. And then he realized that if the roles would have been reversed, Claire surely would have demanded that their baby be named Boston.

"Daddy?" Jerked from his thoughts, Mac looked up at and saw Claire squinting at him.

Walking quickly, he kneeled down beside her bed. "Yeah, baby."

"I don't feel good."

Mac reached over and gently rubbed her back. "I know."

"I miss Mom."

"Me too. She'll be back in two days, though." Mac leaned closer and whispered into her ear, "Just between us, I know she got you a present you're going to love." Claire smiled weakly. Mac could tell that her eyes were becoming heavy and she was about to fall asleep again. Pulling her covers up to shoulders and tucking them around her sides, he softly said, "Go to sleep, Claire bear." He stayed by her side until he was sure that she was fast asleep and then gave her a soft kiss on the head. Making his way to her door, Mac thought that he should remember to thank Boston more often for the wonderful family she had given him. Before closing the door behind him, he took one last look at his baby girl and smiled.

* * *

A/N: What'd you think? I really like writing these family stories, so be expecting more in the future. Thanks for reading!


	3. Hurt

A/N: Thanks for all reviews! You all are amazing. Enjoy!

Noah - 3 years old

* * *

Mac heard the bedroom door open slowly and tiny feet pad into the room. He felt someone come to the edge of the bed and stare at him before carefully crawling up the bed. The small body moved beside him and stopped. Then there was no movement but Mac could still hear quiet breathing. Opening his suddenly, Mac saw Noah rock back on his knees and let out a squeal in shock.

"Daddy, you scared me!" Noah laughed.

Mac smiled and put a hand on his son's back. "Sorry, buddy."

"Are you hurt?" Noah asked, eyeing the big bandage that covered Mac's shoulder. Earlier in the day, Mac had been involved in a chase. The suspect had pulled a knife and sliced his shoulder before Mac could take him down. The cut had been deep, but nothing too serious that 83 stitches couldn't deal with. Mac had hated seeing the fear that ran wild in Boston's eyes when she had came jogging into the emergency room.

"It's just a scratch."

Noah looked at the bandage for several more moments. "You should tell Mama dat. I saw her cryin' in the kitchen. I think dat she was talkin' to Granma on the phone." Mac's heart constricted at the thought of causing his wife pain, but she had known what he did for living and that it was dangerous when they had started dating. "Why is Mama sad?" Noah asked gently putting his hands on Mac's chest.

"She's just sad that I got hurt."

Noah looked up at him startled and Mac instantly realized his mistake. "But you said you weren't hurt?"

Mac sighed and moved to prop himself up against the headboard. Gritting his teeth at the stretching of his wound, Mac finally got situated. He had had this talk with his three older children and he figured it was about time he had it with Noah. "C'mere, buddy." Noah hurriedly moved into his father's arms; leaning against his chest, Noah looked up eagerly at Mac. Mac took a moment to stare at his son. His shaggy brown hair was messy and standing up in odd directions and he was wearing a Red Sox shirt and pajama pants with baseball bats all over them. Mac was a realistic man and although he believed his kids could do anything they wanted, he usually liked to keep his dreams for them in check. With Noah, however, Mac was positive that he would play professional baseball. Thanks to his mother, Noah was only three and knew all the all rules of baseball and, much to the disdain of his father, was an avid Red Sox fan. One of Mac's favorite things to do was play catch with Noah on Saturday afternoons. Clearing his thoughts, Mac ran his hand through Noah's hair and began, "You know I'm a policeman, right?" Noah nodded his head. "Well, sometimes policemen get hurt by the bad guys." Noah's eyes got as wide as saucers. Mac put his hand on his son's cheek and tried to comfort him. "It doesn't happen often and I try as hard as I can to make sure I'm safe. Uncle Danny, Sheldon, Adam, Flack, and Aunt Jess all have my back and try to keep me safe, too. But, there's still always a chance."

Mac saw tears welling up in Noah's eyes and heard him quietly say, "Are you going to die? I don't want you to die!"

Mac was walking on thin ice. He wished Boston was here; she was always better at this. "I don't want to die either. I don't want to leave you and if I had a choice, I would stay with you guys forever."

"Why are you a policeman if it means you might leave us?" Noah asked quietly. Mac was shocked at the intelligent statement that just left his son's mouth. It seemed like just yesterday that Mac was standing over his crib, hearing his first word, and teaching him how to walk. It never ceased to amaze and sadden Mac at how fast his kids grew up.

"Because every bad guy I put in jail is another bad guy that can't hurt anyone. I do what I do so that I can keep you and this city safe."

Noah thought about this for a few moments and then leaned up giving Mac a kiss. "I proud of you, Daddy."

Mac blinked back tears as he watched Noah crawl from the bed and run out of the room. "I'm proud of you too, son," Mac mumbled to himself.

* * *

A/N: I hoped you liked it. Thanks for reading!


	4. Love

Will – 6 years old

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Boston and the kids.

* * *

"Hey Mom," Will said entering the kitchen. Boston turned around from the sink where she was elbow deep in suds. "Want some help?" Boston smiled softly. Will was the most helpful of the bunch. He never complained about taking out the trash, cleaning his room, or watching his younger siblings.

"Sure. Hop up here and you can dry." Will grabbed a dry dishtowel and pulled himself up onto the counter beside the sink. Boston handed him a dish and playfully dabbed a pile of bubbles on his nose.

"Mom," he scolded causing Boston to smile. He was the most serious kid she had ever met and Boston liked to tease Mac that Will had gotten that from him. The only time that Will seemed to relax was when he played Marines. He would dress in the fatigues that Flack and Stella had gotten him last Christmas and would crawl around the house looking for "the enemy." Mac would give him pointers on how to stay undetected or where to find the best hiding places, sometimes getting down on his stomach and crawling with him.

"What's up, butter cup?" Will just looked at her. "It rhymed," she mumbled more to herself than to him and handed him a dish.

Turning the plate over in his hands, Will made sure to dry every corner. Finally he spoke, "When did you know that you loved Dad?"

This was the last thing that Boston had expected to be asked. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and smiled when she recalled the moment she had fallen in love with Mac. They had only been dating for about two months when the carnival had come to town. Boston particularly had to drag Mac to go with her. He thought he was too old for childish games and rides, but Boston had smiled and gave him a kiss and he had finally consented into going. He had followed her as she giddily played the games and rode the rides and even cracked a smile somewhere along the way. He had won her a stuffed bear and bought her a dinner of corndogs, French fries, and funnel cake. And Boston had realized then that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mac. Boston turned towards Will and dried her hands on his towel. "He took me to the Carnival and showed me he wasn't always so serious. He could loosen up and have fun, too." Will nodded his head. "Why do you ask, Willie?"

Will scrunched his nose up at the nickname, but didn't say anything. "I think I might love someone."

"Who?"

"You won't tell anyone?" Will looked up at her. She nodded her head. "Pinky swear?" he asked, holding out his pinky.

"Pinky swear." Boston stuck out her pinky and they shook on it.

Taking a deep breath, he finally continued, "Ava."

Boston nodded her head at the mention of Flack and Stella's six year old daughter. "Well," Boston started, "you have good taste. Are you going to make a move?"

"Mom," Will scoffed, "we're only six. But, maybe I'll show her my fun side." He nodded his head as if he was agreeing with himself and jumped down from the counter. "Thanks Mom," he threw over his shoulder.

Mac walked in just as Will was walking out and he reached over to mess up his son's hair. "Hey, Bos," he said placing his hands on her hips. "What was that about?"

She wrapped her hands around his neck and said, "Will just asked me when I knew I was in love with you."

"And?"

"The Carnival."

Mac nodded his head and smiled. "I remember. Don't you still have that bear that I won for you."

"Yep. It sits atop my shoe collection."

"That's when I knew I loved you, too. And when I realized that I'd do anything for you." Boston raised her eyebrows. "I loved that you could make me have fun and I knew that you'd force me to do so if I ever got too serious."

"You? Too serious? Never."

"You? Smartass? Always," Mac dodged her hand, but pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

A/N: Any thoughts? Thanks for reading!


	5. Age

Mac looked over Maddy. They were currently lying on the floor coloring pictures together in silence. She was wearing a pink shirt and shorts that he had bought her on a business trip to D.C. a month ago. The shirt had a cow on it and for some reason he had thought of Maddy when he saw it. Without turning away from her picture she asked, "Why do stare at me, Daddy?"

Mac gave a small smile. "Because you're pretty."

She turned her head and stopped drawing. "Like Mama?"

"Exactly like your mom." Maddy thought about this for a second before turning back to her picture.

A few minutes later Maddy calmly put down her crayon and sat up looking at Mac. Mac turned to face her and waited for her to talk. "Why is Mama so young but you're so old?"

Mac's jaw must have dropped in shock. While he knew that his and Boston's age difference was apparent to most people, he never expected for his kids to pick up on it. He had always hoped that they would just think it was normal. He sat up too, trying to buy some time. "Well...umm…we aren't the same age. I'm older than she is." He hoped that this crappy answer was enough to satisfy his daughter.

"But that's not normal."

"True, but nothing about your mother is normal...You can't control who you love, Maddy. You just love them and hope that they love you back."

"But wouldn't it be easier to love someone your own age?"

"Sure, it would be easy. But, Maddy, the best things in life are rarely easy and I wouldn't trade your mom in for the world. It actually works out better that we are different ages. I help your mom act less like a kid and she helps me act less like an old man."

"I see." Maddy took a look at Mac's picture and giggled. "Daddy, you're picture isn't very good."


	6. Fight

Mac looked up from his place at the kitchen table when he heard the front door slam shut. "Hey Claire bear," Mac greeted his daughter, who ignored him and proceeded to stomp all the way upstairs to her room. He gave his wife a questioning look and she just shrugged her shoulders.

"Daddy! Look what I drew," Noah came running up to him waving a piece of paper. "That's me playin' ball, and that's you and Mama watchin'."

Mac closely examined the multicolored swirls and blobs that covered the paper. "That's great," he said, matching Noah's enthusiasm. "Can I take this to my office?" Noah shook his head eagerly. "Thanks, buddy." Mac gave the boy a kiss on the head. "Now, go upstairs and get ready for dinner."

"Okay, Daddy." Will grabbed his hand at the bottom of the steps and helped Noah and Maddy upstairs.

"Thanks, Will," Mac called and saw him nod his head. Turning back towards Boston, Mac asked, "Where does Noah get so much energy?"

"I don't know, but I wish I had some of it," she said putting down her bag on the counter and plopping down on Mac's lap. "Hey," she said seductively.

Mac smirked and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey." After a short kiss, Mac asked, "What's wrong with Claire?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "She was in a bad mood the whole way home. We should probably go talk to her."

Mac nodded his head and when Boston started to get up, he squeezed her ass. Boston let out a shriek of surprise. Mac raised his eyebrow at her. "You're one hot mama." He followed a laughing Boston upstairs.

"Claire," Boston lightly knocked on her bedroom door. When she got no response, she turned back towards Mac and opened the door. Claire was flopped down on her bed, laying on her stomach.

"Go away," Claire mumbled into her pillow.

"Sorry, kid. No can do." Boston took a seat on the end of her bed and Mac grabbed her desk chair, pulling it closer.

"You can talk to us," Mac said laying a comforting hand on her back.

"Are you guys getting a divorce?" she asked without turning around.

Mac and Boston looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, Boston said, "No. Definitely not. You're father couldn't get rid of me even if he tried."

"Why do you think that?" Mac asked gently.

"You guys had a fight last night and Becky Calloway said that her parents fought all the time before they got a divorce." Finally, Claire flipped over. She had tear stains down her cheeks and Boston pulled her onto her lap.

"All couples fight, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other or that we're going to get a divorce," Mac said grabbing her feet in his hands.

"You fight with Will, don't you?" Boston asked and Claire nodded. "But you don't love him any less, right?"

"Right."

"Well, that's how me and your mom are."

Claire nodded her head. "Becky Calloway's stupid."

"That's rude," Boston scowled. "How about next time you're upset, instead of storming around, you just talk to us?"

"I guess I can try that."

"Good, because you're my big girl and I expect more outta you, Claire," Mac said climbing on the bed and hugging his wife and child. _This is perfect_, was Mac's fleeting thought before Boston and Claire jumped on him, tickling his sides.


	7. Christmas Cheer

"Mom?"

Boston turned around from her suitcase to see Will standing at the door of her bedroom. "Hey, Willie."

Will shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, a sure sign that he was going to ask for something. "Well, I was thinking, since Dad is staying here, I don't want him to be lonely. So, maybe, could I stay here with him?" Boston smiled at Will. He may have gotten Mac's stoic, serious side, but he had Boston's tendency to ramble.

"Don't you wanna see Grandpa and Grandma and everyone else?" Boston and the kids were flying back to Nebraska tomorrow for Christmas. Mac had to work on Christmas Eve and on December 27th, so they had decided that he should just stay in New York.

"Sure, I just don't want him to get lonely."

"I'll be fine, Will," Mac said, coming up behind Will and touching the boy's shoulder. "But, thanks for the offer." Will's shoulders slumped, but he didn't protest. Giving a simple nod, he squeezed passed Mac and headed back into his room to finish packing.

"Hey, babe. How was your day?" Boston asked.

Mac walked over to her and gave her a kiss. Resting a hand on her back, he continued, "It was okay. We solved a case, so that's all that matters." Boston smiled and gave Mac another kiss. "I'm gonna miss you guys," Mac said softly.

"We'll miss you, too. But we have to go." When they first had Claire, Mac and Boston had made a pact to always take the kids to visit their families at least once a year. Every year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, Boston would take the kids to either Nebraska or Chicago. One year they'd have Thanksgiving in Nebraska and the next year they would have Christmas there. Usually, their parents came out to visit in the middle of the year. Mac's family loved to come to New York for Easter and Boston's parents were fans of visiting during the summer.

"I know, I just wish I didn't have to work." Mac loved his job, but sometimes late at night he would lie in bed with Boston curled next to him and think that maybe he was a bad father. He had never told Boston this; he was too embarrassed. He knew that what he did was important, but he had missed so much of his kids' lives because he had been working. He had been interrogating a suspect during Claire's first words. On Will's first day of school he had been running a DNA sample. Maddy's first steps had happened while Mac was chasing a suspect. And Mac had been nearly missed Noah's birth because he was testifying in court.

As if she was reading his mind, Boston lightly touched Mac's cheek and said, "You're a good father, Mac. You're protecting our family everyday when you put someone behind bars."

"But I miss so many things."

Boston smiled softly. "But you're there when they need you. When it really matters, you always pull through." Mac thought it about for a minute. Maybe she was right. His kids knew that all they had to do was call and he'd drop everything and come running. Leaning down, he pulled Boston into a passionate kiss.

* * *

"You guys have fun. And be good for your mom." Mac was kneeling down in front of the kids. They had just checked into the airport and were getting ready to pass through security. Mac always hated this part. The kids always looked so depressed and he had to be strong and act like he wasn't going to be lonely for the next week, until they returned.

"Why can't you come?" Noah asked, his lip trembling.

"I have to work, buddy. You know that," Mac said gently. He reached out and let his hand run through Noah's hair and settle on his shoulder.

"I don't want you to stay. Santa won't know where you are! He won't bring you any presents!" The thought of his father, home alone and present-less on Christmas sent Noah over the edge. Mac pulled him into a hug as Noah sobbed.

"Don't worry, buddy. Santa will know where I am. You gotta be my big man and take care of your mom for me," Mac whispered into his son's ear, rubbing his back. After a minute, Mac felt Noah calm down. Pulling away, he whipped his eyes on Mac's sleeve and hiccupped.

"C'mon, guys. We gotta go," Boston said softly. Mac said his goodbyes to the kids and kissed Boston goodbye. Taking a deep breath, he put a smile on his face and watched as his family walked away.

* * *

Mac had never really cared for Christmas. He could take it or leave it. When he was growing up, his family never made a huge deal about it. Claire had hated the winter and preferred to treat the holiday very low key. But Mac had quickly learned that Boston loved Christmas and he better just get used to it. Every year she decorated their house the day after Thanksgiving and it had only gotten more out of hand after they had kids. Mac would come home every day to find a new ornament that one of the kids made or another batch of freshly baked gingerbread men cookies. Normally, he didn't mind all the cheer; in fact, he had started to look forward to the Christmas season because of how happy Boston and the kids were. But as Mac sat in his empty living room surrounded by Christmas decorations this year, he found that he was incredibly lonely. It was Christmas Eve and he had just gotten off his shift. Looking around, he noticed a snowman that Claire had helped Maddy make out of cotton balls. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Mac jumped up. Quickly grabbing his coat and keys, he rushed out of the house.

* * *

"How's Mac today?" Boston's sister asked her. All the ladies were in the kitchen fixing Christmas breakfast while the men and kids were outside doing chores.

Boston didn't look up from the pancakes she was currently trying not to burn. "Okay, I guess. I haven't talked to him yet. It's strange because usually he likes to call and wish the kids a merry Christmas as soon as they wake up."

"Maybe he's still working."

"I hope not. His shift ended yesterday afternoon." Boston carefully flipped one of the pancakes and frowned when she saw it was black. "I don't think I should be allowed to make pancakes anymore."

"Mama!" Everyone heard Noah call from the porch. "Mama!" he yelled again from inside the house.

"Don't yell, Noah," Boston said calmly, pouring more batter onto the fryer.

"Mama, look what Santa brought me," he called from the kitchen doorway.

"I told you not to open – " She stopped in midsentence when she looked up and saw Mac holding Noah's hand. "Mac."

"Merry Christmas," he grinned.


	8. Breakfast

Mac looked up from the newspaper just in time to see Will stumble into the kitchen. He gave Mac a nod and then went straight for the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. Next he pulled up a small step stool and climbed up to get a bowl and glass. Finally, he pulled out his cereal and made his way to the table. Setting everything down, he sat down beside Mac and started to prepare his breakfast. Mac cringed as Will poured some juice into his cereal. Boston and Mac had learned early on that that is the only way Will would eat cereal, but it always disgusted Mac a little.

Mac silently passed Will the comic section of the paper and they finished their breakfasts in silence. Mac had some errands he had to run before his shift later in the afternoon. He tried to think of the last time he had spent some alone time with Will. The fact that he had to think about it proved to him that it had been too long. Folding up the paper, Mac looked over at Will. "Wanna come with me on some errands?" Will looked up from the comics and nodded eagerly. "Go change your clothes and meet me down here at 07:00." Will and Mac always talked to each other in military time. Will jumped down from his chair, quickly putting his dishes in the sink, and ran out of the room. Mac smiled as he scribbled a note for Boston. He was looking forward to spending the day with his son.


	9. Swim Lessons

"I don't like this."

"It'll be okay, buddy. I'll be right there by your side. I won't let anything happen," Mac said as he grabbed Noah's hand.

"I don't know," he said as he let Mac lead him to the edge of the pool.

Mac kneeled down in front of him. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do, but I think you'd have fun."

"Nothing about this seems fun."

Mac smiled at Noah's choice of words. "I promise you'll be okay."

Noah stood looking at the water. Finally, he nodded. "You can't let go, Daddy."

Mac nodded, "I promise." He grabbed his son's hand and guided him into the shallow end of the gym's pool. He was glad that no one else was currently swimming; he could focus all his attention on teaching Noah how to swim.

"It's cold!" Noah squealed. "Don't let go! Don't let go!"

"I'm not letting you go." Once they were all the way in, Mac started to show Noah what to do. "You need to kick your legs up and down as hard as you can." He waited until Noah was doing it. "That's great, buddy. Now, move your arms in circles...Good! Now hold your breath and put your face in the water. If you get out of breath, bring your head back up...That's it! Now do all those things at once." Mac held onto Noah as he started to swim. Noah quickly ran out of breath and brought his head up.

"Did I do it?" he asked hopefully, rubbing his eyes.

Mac grinned at his son and nodded. "Yeah, you were fantastic. Move your legs a little faster next time and, if you want, you can close your eyes when you're under the water."

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, Noah went back under water and started swimming again. Pulling back up, he clapped his hands in delight. "I did it, Daddy. Did you see that? I did it."

"Yeah, I saw. You'll be swimming in the Olympics in no time."

"No, I still want to play baseball," Noah said confidently before going under again. Thirty minutes later, Mac could tell that Noah was getting tired. He carefully lifted Noah out of the pool and helped him dry off. Mac picked him up and Noah wrapped his arms around Mac's neck and rested his head on Mac's shoulder. Mac smiled and rubbed Noah's back slowly. "I can't wait to tell Mama about this." Just before closing his eyes, Noah leaned up and kissed Mac on the cheek. "You're the best daddy ever."


	10. Hero

"Hey!" Noah barged into Boston and Mac's room angrily. Mac frowned at him, so Noah quickly stepped back outside and shut the door. A second later a load knock was made and Noah said, "It's me...Noah." Boston laughed, sitting up further in bed.

"Come in," Mac called.

The door burst open again and Noah stomped in. "I have some questions that need to be answered," he said matter-of-factly, putting his hands on his hips. Boston smiled at the gesture. That is exactly what Mac did whenever he was angry or annoyed. Boston scooted away from Mac and patted the empty space between them. Noah quickly scurried onto their bed and sat cross legged so that he could see his parent's faces. "Why is everyone else named after someone, but I'm not?"

"What do ya mean?" Mac asked, putting the file he had been reading down on the bedside table.

"Well," Noah began, "Claire is named after that lady you loved before Mama and Will is named after Grandpa and Maddy's named after Mama. But, I'm just Noah. I'm not named after anyone."

Boston and Mac shared a look. "That's not true," Boston said softly. "You're middle name is for someone."

Noah crinkled his nose in confusion, "Donald?"

Mac nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. Boston grabbed Mac's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Yeah, after Don Flack...Ava's dad."

"But why am I named after him? What'd he ever do?"

Boston thought of Don and smiled sadly. "Well, he was a great friend. He could make anyone laugh," leaning closer to Noah, Boston whispered "even you're dad." Noah giggled. "He was always there when you needed him. Rain or shine; day or night, Don would come running if you needed help. He was also a great detective and helped put lots of bad guys in jail."

"Where does he live now? How come I've never met him?"

Mac tightened his jaw and stood up with an unreadable expression on his face. Noah looked at him with wide eyes. "I think we should talk man to man." Picking him up, Mac didn't dare look at Boston. He would see her tears and that would send him over the edge. Mac carried Noah down to the kitchen, set him down at the table, and went to retrieve some milk and cookies.

Mac passed Noah a glass of milk and plate of Oreos. He dunked a cookie and replayed that day in his head. Noah knew his father well enough to know that it would be best to just sit tight until he started to talk. Clearing his throat, Mac looked over at Noah and felt his chest tighten. "Don saved my life." Mac saw the instant change in Noah's demeanor. Noah had always been an emotional boy. There was no second guessing when it came to him; he let you know if he was happy, sad, frustrated, or angry. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and Mac loved him for that. "I worked with Don a lot. He was my go to guy." Mac paused to take a deep breath and frowned when that didn't help him reign in his emotions. "A couple days before you were born, Don and I went to arrest a bad guy." Mac was trying to explain in a way that Noah would understand. "The bad guy didn't want to go to jail, so he tried to hurt me." Noah's face crumbled and Mac felt his own tears fall. "But, then Don pushed me out of the way, so the bad guy hurt him instead…I wouldn't have ever met you if Don hadn't saved me."

Noah slid off his seat and climbed into Mac's lap. "He died." It wasn't a question, but Mac nodded anyway. Noah reached up and touched Mac's wet cheeks. "I'm glad he saved you." Mac let out a teary laugh and hugged Noah tightly, nodding.

* * *

Mac spent the next hour eating cookies and telling stories about Don to Noah. He made an effort to only tell Noah the funny stories. He was too young to hear about bombs, gangs, or dirty cops. Instead, Mac told him stories of Don teaching Will how to play hockey. Or how he had danced with a two month old Maddy at his and Stella's wedding. Mac told Noah of how when Boston was pregnant with him, Mac had been out of town for the first ultrasound. Boston was heading to the appointment by herself when Don showed up. He had just gotten off an eighteen hour shift and started another in six hours, but he didn't think Boston should experience it alone.

When Noah began to nod off, Mac lifted him up with ease and carried him to bed. Just as Mac was about to close Noah's door, he heard Noah call for him. Walking back into the room, he squatted down by Noah. "Yeah, buddy." Mac gently touched his faced and marveled at how soft it was. _He gets that from Boston._

"Can we visit Auntie Stella tomorrow?" Noah asked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Mac smiled at his son. "I think that we can do that." Mac stood up and walked out of the room, giving Noah one last look. _Thanks Don._

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked it. I'm not sure if I'm going to carry this particular storyline over into Shine Your Light, but I thought it would be interesting to look at.


	11. What Might Have Been

A/N: This is in correlation with Hero. What if Don hadn't saved Mac?

* * *

"Claire Noelle Taylor! Stop hitting your brother!" Boston shouted as she pulled the casserole from the oven. Startled at the knock on the door, Boston glanced at the clock. 5:43. Mac was supposed to be home in seventeen minutes, but he wouldn't knock. Boston picked up one year old, Maddy, being careful of her very pregnant belly, and made her way to the door. "Maybe that's Daddy," Boston cooed to Maddy who grinned and clapped her hands at mention of her dad. Frowning as she looked through the peephole, she slowly opened up the door to reveal Sheldon, Don, and Stella standing outside. "Hey, guys. Mac didn't tell me you were coming over." She opened the door wider and let them in.

Stella forced a smile and reached for Maddy. "I'll take Mad and the other kids upstairs." Boston shook her head, but let Stella take the baby from her arms.

Once the kids were upstairs, Boston turned back towards Don and Sheldon. "It's about Mac, isn't?"

Giving her a sympathetic smile and a soothing tone, Sheldon reached for her arm, "Why don't we sit down."

"I don't want to sit down. Which hospital is he at?" she asked with a shaky voice. Don and Sheldon looked at each other, telepathically debating who would tell her. Boston finally made the decision for them, "You told me last time, Don. Just do it again. Which hospital is he at?"

Clearing his throat, he reached for her arm, but hesitated and let his hand drop. "He's...um...he's not at a hospital." He's voice cracked on the last word.

Boston's chest tightened and hot tears coursed down her cheeks. "But he's fine, right?" They both stood there dumbly. "Right?" Boston yelled.

"Boston, I...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Don said softly.

Boston's sobs racked her body. She put one hand over her belly and the other moved to cover her eyes. This couldn't be happening. Their fourth baby was due any day now and they had plans. Just this morning they had talked about taking the kids to Disneyland over the summer. She took several steps backward until her back hit the wall. Sliding down, she pulled her knees as close to her chest as she could. She could hardly breathe through all the grief.

"Boston." Sheldon bent in front of her. "You need to calm down. You could be endangering the baby."

Boston shook her head. "What am I gonna do without him?"

Don knelt down beside Sheldon. "You're gonna take care of his kids. And I'll never let them forget about their dad and how he was the best man I ever knew. But, for right now, you need to calm down." But Boston didn't calm; she _couldn't_ calm down. Sobbing harder, she began to gasp for breath. And then a sharp pain hit. Gripping her stomach, she groaned in pain.

"Flack, call an ambulance. The baby's in stress," Hawkes shouted.

* * *

"Hey, B." Lindsey's soft voice flowed into the room. Boston had her back to the door and ignored her. Stepping beside the bed, Lindsey placed her hand on Boston's back. "I know you're awake."

Slowly, Boston turned over to face her. Tears immediately started to pour down her face. "It's a boy. Mac wanted another boy so bad." Lindsey gave her sobbing friend a hug and let her own tears fall. "I can't look at him. I can't look at my own son because I know he'll look like Mac." Boston mumbled into Lindsey's shirt. "He was my best friend. I love him. I need him. I can't do this alone...I just can't."

With a small smile, Lindsey cupped Boston's face with her hands. "Listen to me, B. You have four wonderful, amazing children. You're the only thing that they have left. They just lost their father and they cannot lose their mother, too. You just have to trust that Mac knew how much you loved him." Boston took a quivering breath and nodded her head. "Wanna see your son?" Lindsey asked softly.

Boston pulled away from Lindsey, wiped her eyes, and nodded again. "Noah. Noah Mac Taylor."

* * *

A/N: Before I get some hostile reviews, this _probably_ won't be cared over into Shine Your Light. Probably.


	12. Playing With Balls

A/N: This is a continuation of Swim Lessons (Chapter 9).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Boston and the kids.

* * *

Boston heard the door open and then the distinct pitter patter of a child running through up hallway. "Mama!" She heard Noah stop in tracks and then yell. "Mama, where are you?"

"In the kitchen." The feet immediately started to run in her direction.

"Mama!" he yelled in victory when he reached the kitchen and saw that his mom was indeed there.

"Hey, No," she greeted her son. "How was the swim lesson?"

Wrapping his arms around her legs as far as they went, he said, "Mama, I had _so much_ fun. Daddy is the best swim teacher, ever. Really. And he said that I could make it to the 'lymics 'cause I am that good at swimin'. And then we raced, but don't worry, he made me put on my floaties, but then we raced and I won! I beat Daddy! And Daddy's the best swimmer I know, so I must be really, really good! But don't worry, I'm still gonna play for the Red Sox, but I might swim just for fun." Boston nodded her head, trying to keep up and understand all that he was saying. "Oh! And then once Daddy was gettin' tired, we went to McDonald's. I got a happy meal _AND _a _Batman_ toy, but the best part was..." he paused for dramatic effect, "we played in the Playhouse and guess what?"

"What?"

"Daddy went in the ball area with me!"

Boston looked up from Noah to see her husband walk into the kitchen with a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Really?" she asked looking directly at him.

"Yeah," Noah continued. "He played with me. It was the best day ever. I wish you were there too, Mama. I love you."

"Ahh." Boston bent down to look Noah eye to eye, and hugged him. "I love you, too, No. I'm glad you had a good time with your dad. Maybe next time just the three of us could do something."

Noah's eyes popped out, "Really?"

"Yeah. Now go get ready for your nap. We'll be up in a minute." Noah nodded his head and scurried out of the room and up the stairs. Boston straightened up and didn't even try to hide her giddy smile when she looked over at Mac. "The ball area? Really?" Shrugging off his coat, Mac just nodded his head. "You know, that's against the rules."

Sighing, Mac approached his wife, placing his hands on her hips, "No one else was there, so I figured it was safe. Are you gonna make fun of me for the rest of the day?"

"No." She stood on her tip toes and gave Mac a gentle kiss. "It's cute. Picturing Marine Mac playing in the ball pen with his son. It's really sweet."

Mac shrugged and buried his head in her shoulder, "We both know I'd do anything for the kids. And for you."

"It's kinda hot, too."

Mac laughed, "Picturing me in the ball area?"

"Yeah. Playing with your son. You're a good father, Mac," she said, running her hands up his chest. "And it's a real turn on."

"Well," Mac said pulling away, "why don't we go put Noah to bed and then we can continue this conversation in the privacy of our bedroom?"

Boston nodded and let Mac tug her up the stairs. "How about you put on your uniform and I call you Marine Mac?"


	13. Hate

A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews. I just want to clarify that this is a series of oneshots that aren't necessarily connected. So, while Flack and Mac died in previous chapters, they won't always be dead. I hope this clears up some of the confusion. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Boston.

* * *

"Gabe, turn the video game and come do your homework," Boston called from the kitchen as she stuck the casserole in the oven. She added, "Now, Gabe," two minutes later when she heard the TV on. Five minutes later she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and walked out to the living room. "This is the last time I'm gonna ask. Please, turn off the TV and start your homework. You can play more once all your work's done."

"You can't tell me what to do," Gabe said, his eyes never leaving the TV.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Boston nodded her head and walked over to the TV, turning it off. "Go do your homework, now," she said firmly.

"You can't tell me what to do," Gabe yelled. Jumping to his feet, he started walking towards the stairs. "You're not my mother! Your just the lady my dad has sex with. I hate you!" Gabe was at the top of the stairs when Boston saw Mac walk in from the entryway and start running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He must have walked in during Gabe's rant and from the icy look on his face, he was not happy about what he heard.

Boston turned her attention to the rest of the kids who were sitting at the table. She saw that Noah was crying and Maddy was on the verge of breaking down. "It's okay," she tried to say in her calmest voice.

"I've never seen Dad look so mad," Claire said in a small voice. Boston nodded and ran her fingers through Claire's hair. There had only been three times that Boston had ever been afraid of Mac. The first was when he punched a wall after finding out that Peyton had kept Gabe a secret. The second was when Flack had confessed that he'd cheated on Stella and Mac had grabbed him by the lapels, pushed him against the wall, and yelled in his face. And the third was now.

"Who wants ice cream?" Boston asked when she heard Mac's booming voice. She wasn't above using bribery in order to get the kids' minds off of Mac.

* * *

Mac was looking forward to a nice, quiet night at home. They had solved a particularly nasty case and nothing made him feel better than spending time with his family and since it was Wednesday, Gabe would also be there. Boston had called earlier and told him she was making his favorite hamburger casserole and had rented the latest Disney movie for them all to watch. She had also mentioned that she had went shopping and gotten some new lingerie. So now he couldn't wait to get home, eat some dinner, spend time with all of his kids, and make love to his wife, nice and slow. But as he walked into their home and heard his son yelling at his wife, he knew his nice, quiet night at home was ruined.

"You can't tell me what to do. You're not my mother! Your just the lady my dad has sex with. I hate you!" he heard Gabe yell and run up the stairs.

Throwing down his jacket, Mac took after his oldest, taking the stairs two by two. "What the hell was that, Gabe?" Mac asked, slamming Gabe's bedroom door behind him.

Gabe looked up at him with startled eyes that soon became glossed over with anger, "She can't tell me what to do. I'm a man."

"You're a man?" Mac scoffed. "You're fourteen. You're not a man."

"Yes I am. And she's not my mother. If it wasn't for her, you and Mom would still be together. We'd be a family. I hate her."

"Fine, you're a man. Then I'm gonna talk to you like one." Mac pushed Gabe into his desk chair, gripped the armrests on either side of him, and bent down inches away from his face. "Your mom's the one that left me. She moved to England and never told me about you until you were four. Four! So, if you're gonna blame anyone, blame your mother." Stepping back from Gabe, Mac continued, "Boston has done nothing but love you and be there for you since the day she met you. And it's about time you stopped being a little brat and showed her the respect she deserves." Taking a deep breath, Mac forced himself to talk in a softer tone, "I love you, son. More than you can ever imagine. But Boston is my heart and soul and if you ever talk to her like that again, I promise that I _will_ treat you like the man you supposedly are. Now, finish your homework."

"I'm not apologizing to her," Mac heard Gabe say.

Turning in the doorway, Mac shrugged, "You're a man; that's your decision." With that, he turned back around and closed Gabe's door.

* * *


	14. Second Best

"Mama always cuts the crust off." Mac sighed heavily as he took the plate back from Maddie and started to cut to crust off the grilled cheese sandwich. If he heard one more thing that he was doing wrong he might have to kill someone. Placing the plate back down in front of her, he walked back over to the refrigerator and grabbed a container of carrots, bottle of ranch dressing, and a two juice boxes.

"Here ya go." He gave both Maddie and Noah a few carrots, a small dollop of ranch for dipping, and placed a juice box in front of them.

Noah looked at the drink, clearly disgusted. "Mama always gives me milk."

"Well Mama's not here, so deal with it." Boston was currently in Southern California for one of her sorority sisters' wedding leaving Mac alone for ten days with the kids. _She's probably sunbathing right now. Or shopping_, Mac thought bitterly. He couldn't seem to do anything right and the kids took every opportunity to point out that he was not, in fact, Boston.

Mac started sorting through the mail dividing it into bills, junk, and Boston's mail. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Noah slide out of his chair and make his way towards he kitchen. "Sit down and finish your lunch," Mac barked in a harsher tone than he meant.

Noah looked at him with wide eyes, "But I want milk."

"Too bad." Mac walked over to where Noah was standing, picked him up, and plopped him back in front of his food. "Eat."

"But – "

"No buts. Eat your lunch."

"NO!" Noah pushed the plate away causing it to skid across the table and tumble to the ground on the other side.

"That's it." Mac jerked Noah out of his seat and pushed out of the kitchen. "Go to your room."

Noah started sobbing as he climbed the stairs. "I want Mama," he yelled halfway up.

"So do I," Mac yelled back.

"You're mean." Maddie pushed her chair back and jumped down.

"You haven't finished eating."

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Slumping against the counter, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt terrible. It wasn't often that he lost his temper, especially with Noah. It wasn't that his kids were perfect; in fact they were far from it. But usually he could deal with it in a calm and patient manner. Today, however, he was stressed and had taken his frustration out on Noah. The Chief was ridding his ass abut going over budget, Hawkes had come down with the flu, leaving him one CSI short, Adam had the week off to prepare for his own wedding, there was a two foot deep stack of laundry that needed to get down, Gabe had a soccer game this afternoon that he had promised to go to, and to top it all off he really needed to go into the office to finish up some paperwork but Boston wasn't here to watch the kids. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed the one person who could make him feel better.

"_Hey, babe. I was just thinkin' about you,"_ Boston's cheerful voice greeted him.

"Hey."

She instantly picked up on his tone. _"What's wrong?"_

"Noah and Maddie hate me."

"_I honestly doubt that, but what'd you do?"_

"I snapped at Noah. But he wouldn't eat his lunch." Mac was starting to get worked up again. "And he wouldn't drink his juice."

"_I always give him milk for lunch._"

"So I've heard," Mac mumbled.

"_What kinda juice did you give him?"_

"I don't know. I gave 'em both one of those juice boxes in fridge. What does it matter?"

"_Well, those are grape."_

"And your point?"

Boston chose to ignore his attitude. _"Noah only drinks apple or orange juice. He doesn't like grape or cherry or raspberry because they change the color of his tongue and that freaks him out." _Mac felt stupid. He _knew_ that, but he just didn't realize Noah's weird phobia of his tongue changing colors also applied to juices. To be honest, he hadn't even thought about it; he'd just grabbed the first thing in the fridge that was kid appropriate. _"Why's Maddie mad?"_

"'Cause I yelled at No and made him go upstairs...I just got so frustrated. They just keep telling me that I'm not doing things like you do them."

"_Like what?"_

"Like how I don't cut the crust off the bread. Or I don't tuck them in right. Or I don't pack their backpacks right. I don't do anything right."

"_Oh, poor baby."_

"You know what, I didn't call you to get mocked. So, I'll just let you go. Have fun getting a tan while I'm here taking care of your family."

"_Our family,"_ Boston snapped. _"It's our family."_ And with a click, she hung up, leaving Mac to deal with the problem he had created.

Mac threw his phone onto the counter and watched as the battery popped out and bounced to the floor. "Just fucking great," Mac mumbled to himself as he walked over to where the battery was and popped it back into his phone.

He replayed his conversation with Boston while he cleaned up Noah's food. He shouldn't have tried to make her feel guilty, he realized that, but she hadn't really helped the situation either. He had called looking for support and advice, not to get teased. He'd call her later tonight, once they had both had a chance to cool off. But he knew that he had to go and apologize to Noah now. The boy was probably crying his heart out and needed someone to comfort him.

He took his time climbing the stairs thinking about what he would say to his son. At the top of the staircase he could her Noah's sobs and Maddie's soothing words. The boys' bedroom door was propped open and Mac could see that Noah was lying on his stomach on the edge of his bed. Maddie was kneeling in front of him and patting his back. "Maddie, can I have a minute alone with your brother?"

Maddie turned her head and glared at Mac. But finally said, "O'Tay."

Mac smiled when she gave Noah a kiss on the back of the head before she started to walk out. Before she left the room, Mac crouched down in front of her, blocking her exit. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I was mean."

"I don't like it when you're mean," she said in her small voice.

"I don't like it either. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course. You my daddy and I love you."

"I love you, too, Mads." Pulling her in for a hug, he felt her kiss his cheek. "You can go watch TV in me and mama's room for a few minutes, kay?"

"'Tay." She skipped out of the room and Mac waited until he heard the familiar sounds of Nickelodeon filtering through the upstairs.

Noah was still crying as Mac awkwardly laid on his side beside Noah and pulled his son to his chest. They lied in silence for a minute while Mac listened to Noah whimper and relished in the strawberry smell of the boy's shampoo. Pressing his face into the back of Noah's neck, Mac whispered, "I'm sorry." This only seemed to make Noah cry harder.

After several minutes, he seemed to calm down only hiccupping every so often. "You yelled at me. Mama never yells at me."

"I know. I'm really sorry I yelled. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you."

"I don't like grape juice."

"I should've realized that. I shoulda stopped and listened to you."

"I like milk. Mama says if I drink it, I'll grow big and strong. Just like you." Mac was stunned into silence as Noah flipped in his arms so that they were facing each other. "I wanna be a de-ect-ive when I grow up."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I wanna be just like you."

"I hope you're better than me," Mac said softly running his fingers threw Noah's hair.

"I won't yell."

"That's good."

"And I don't want your white 'air." Following his father's cue, he ran his fingers threw Mac's hair.

Mac faked a shocked face. "My hair isn't white."

Noah giggled and continued to play with his hair. "Yes it is, Daddy."

"There may be a few pieces turning grey, but it's definitely not white. And do you know who gave me all these grey hairs?"

Noah shrugged, "Mama?"

"Yep," Mac laughed. "Her and you and Mads and the rest of the bunch."

Noah pushed on Mac's shoulder to force him to lie on his back. Then he lied down on Mac's chest to get better access to his hair. "You should spike it."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah. Mama says I look 'andsome with my 'air spiked."

"Well, you're also three."

"'Ey. I am tree and a 'alf."

"Sorry. Three and a half. But, I'm fifty six and I'm not sure my hair'll look good spiked."

"Daddy," Noah sat up on Mac's chest and placed his hands on Mac's chest, "You are _so_ old."

"Old! I'm not too old to do this." He picked Noah up and threw Noah up in the air before catching the boy in his firm hands. He repeated the process several times while listening to Noah's squeals.

When they finally stopped, Noah said quietly, "Daddy, I 'unger."

"Me too. How about we go grab some lunch and then we stop at the lab. You and Maddie can play in my office before we pick up Will and Claire and go see Gabe's game."

"Can I 'ave milk?" he asked hesitantly.

"You can have whatever you want. I'm really sorry, No. But you also can't throw your food on the floor. Even when you're mad."

"O'tay. I sorry, Daddy."


	15. Anger

A/N: I'm back! Save your applause, please. Anyway, I hope you guys like this. Just in case you don't read my other story, Shine Your Light, Gabe is Mac's son with Peyton.

Disclaimer: Boston and the kids (and Headmaster Charleston!) are mine, everything else is not.

* * *

_Mac's gonna be pissed._

This was the only thought running through Boston's head as she pulled in front of Gabe's expensive and pretentious private school. Throwing the SUV into park, she rested her hands on the steering wheel and let her head rest on the seat. _Mac's gonna be pissed._

For Gabe's sake, she was glad that both Mac and Peyton had been working a high profile case and couldn't leave the lab mid-shift. That gave them at least six good hours to come to terms with the fact that their son had been suspend from school. _Maybe Mac will be late_. This was the first time that Boston ever hoped that her husband would stay at work late, but she knew Mac and the more time he had to cool off, the better Gabe's likelihood of surviving his father's wrath.

Sighing, Boston reached into the center console, pushing aside Mac's spare phone charger, Noah's swim goggles, and Will's inhaler, digging until she found what she was looking for. Triumphantly, she pulled out the stick of gum and popped it in her mouth before throwing the wadded wrapper back into the console. She was stalling and she knew that.

But she was okay with that because she was also pissed at Gabe. She only got three hours alone a day, while the older kids were in school and Maddie and Noah were at preschool. The last thing she wanted to do with those precious hours was drive all the way across town to Gabe's school and pick up his punk ass.

Ever since he hit his teen years, he had been nothing but trouble. The cute, sweet, chatty little guy that Boston had loved for so long had suddenly turned into a selfish, resentful, hostile monster. It seemed like overnight, Gabe went from idolizing Boston to thinking she was a slutty home wrecker.

It was only late at night that Boston would admit to herself how much Gabe's new attitude toward her hurt. She knew that Mac and Gabe's relationship was already strained enough, so she tended to downplay her feelings in front of Mac. She didn't want to give anything more that could potentially distance the men's relationship. But late at night, when she was showering or enjoying a glass of red wine out on the stoop while Mac tucked the kids in, she let herself realize just how much Gabe's brutal words cut into her.

She had been there for ten years of his life. She had been there for the broken bones and the soccer games and the school plays. She had taken him to the beach in New Jersey, camping in Vermont, and to visit her family in Nebraska. She had been the one to take care of him when his parents had to work late or when he got sick and stayed home from school. She'd always considered him her own and whenever asked, she always said that she had five kids.

So it had hurt like hell when he had so suddenly become resentful of her. She tried to tell herself that he was just being a teenager and that he'd come around in his twenties and realize how awesome of a stepmom she was. But then he'd send her a dirty look or make a snarky comment and she wasn't sure he'd last until he was twenty. Either he'd runaway and never speak to her again or Mac would kill him over his attitude. Either way, it wasn't going to be pretty.

Rubbing the back her neck, Boston tilted the rearview mirror down to check her makeup. Finally deciding that she couldn't stall any longer, she slid out of the vehicle and made her away across the cobblestone driveway of the British International School of New York. Years ago Peyton had decided that if she and Gabe were going to live in New York, then Gabe would need to go to an international school. She went on and on about not wanting Gabe to lose his "Englishness." Boston had privately joked to Mac that they would only be sending their kids to farm schools because she didn't want them losing their "Nebraskaness." In her opinion, there were more important things to spend $50,000 a year on besides Gabe's schooling. There was no reason for an average kid to go to a snooty private school where the staff always gave Boston dirty looks. After her first horrible experience at the school, Boston had been quick to inform Mac that all of their kids were going to public school. Although as the girls got older, Mac wouldn't stop threatening to send them to an all girls Catholic school.

Shaking her head, Boston pushed that thought out of her head, focusing instead on the sound of her heels clicking against the stone floors of the school. Keeping her head up and shoulders back, she didn't bother looking around at the famous paintings and sculptures as she made the familiar trek down wood-lined hallways and through stone archways toward the headmaster's office. On more than one occasion, Boston had wondered which painting she owned. She and Mac had sent this school hundreds of thousands of dollars over the last eight years. So, she liked to think that maybe her money had purchased the Monet by the library or the Picasso outside the chemistry lab; maybe the Van Gogh by the Olympic sized swimming pool.

Boston shook her head again, forcing away the thoughts. Now she was just growing hostile.

She stood just outside the large oak door that she knew only too well would lead into the headmaster's office. Taking a soothing breath, Boston placed a smile on her face and pulled the heavy door open.

"British International School of New York. How may I help you?" the secretary asked from behind her large desk.

"Yes, I'm Boston – "

"May I take a message?"

" – Taylor." Boston finished lamely. She heard a laugh behind her. Turning, she saw Gabe sitting in one of the waiting chairs. There was blood on his hand and his lip was spilt. Next to him sat Amherst Rutherford, his best friend, who looked like he'd just fought a crowbar. And the crowbar had won.

"British International School of New York. How may I help you?"

Turning back around, Boston took a step closer to the reception area. "Yeah, I'm here to pick up–"

"May I take a message."

_This is ridiculous_. The lady wasn't holding a phone. She must have been using one of those ear pieces that drove Boston crazy. _Is it really that hard to just hold the goddamn phone?_

"British International School of New York. How may I help you?" Boston picked a piece of lent of her pants and waited for the secretary to get off the phone. "Hello? M'am?" Boston looked up to find the secretary looking at her like she was the crazy one.

"Me?" Boston asked.

"Who else would I be talking to?" the lady said in her French accent. One of the stipulations of working at the school was that you had to be from Europe.

"Right." Boston smiled. "I'm Boston Taylor and I'm here to pick up Gabe Taylor." She pointed over her shoulder to where Gabe was sitting.

"Oh, yes. The troublemaker. Headmaster Charleston is expecting you. You may go in." She pointed to a door slightly behind her desk. It gave Boston the impression that she was walking into the vulture's lair. "He doesn't have all day. You can go in," the secretary snapped.

"Right. Thanks." Boston gave her a small smile before walking to the door. Pausing for only a moment, she gave a quick knock before pushing the door open and slipping inside.

The room was everything she imagined a Headmaster's office to be. Shelves of books lined the walls, all the furniture was made out of dark, solid mahogany, and various European flags were hanging above the window. The whole place screamed Hogwarts to Boston. Except Headmaster Charleston was no Dumbledore. He was physically large; not fat, but tall and wide, made of pure muscle. His gray hair and stern attitude reminded her of her grandfather. Except that she was pretty sure Headmaster Charleston won't let her sit on his lap and teach her the multiplication tables. Or at least she hoped he wouldn't let her sit on his lap. _Oh, god!_ Shaking her head vigorously, she desperately tried to get the image out of her head.

"Mrs. Taylor?"

His booming voice brought Boston back to reality. Stepping towards the desk, she shook his hand before sitting in one of the stiff chairs opposite his desk.

"It says here that you're Gabe's stepmother." He lifted his eyes up from the file and looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted an explanation on why she married a man who already had a son.

"Yes."

"Well, normally in situations like this I like to talk to the actual parents, but I guess you'll have to do."

Cocking an eyebrow, Boston let out a shocked laugh. "Excuse me?"

Headmaster Charleston continued on, like what he'd he just said wasn't at all offensive. "When a student becomes as much of deviant as Gabe has become, I prefer to talk to the student's real parents."

"Listen, Mr. Charleston – "

"Headmaster Charleston," he interrupted, sounding truly offended.

Boston recrossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "Whatever. I can promise you that, while Gabe's blood may not be mine, I do consider myself his 'actual' parent," she said using air quotes. Without missing a beat, Boston surged on, "I know you're a very busy man, so if you could just tell me what Gabe did and what his punishment is, then I go home and talk with my husband and his mother about it. Then all three of us will sit down and decide what our punishment for him will be." Internally, she rolled her eyes. What would actually happen was that she and Mac would talk about it and Peyton would completely ignore Boston's opinions. It was an arrangement that had been perfected over the years but still managed to make Mac even angrier. In one particularly memorable moment, Mac had gotten so irritated about Peyton's attitude towards Boston that he he'd called her a bitch and told her to get the fuck out until she could respect Boston. Needless to say, he had been properly rewarded that night for his chivalry.

Boston blushed faintly at the memory before focusing her attention back on Headmaster Charleston. "In the past year, Gabe has grown to be somewhat of a nuisance. Usually sudden changes happen like this when the home life has deteriorated."

"Gabe's home life hasn't deteriorated," Boston interjected.

"Then why couldn't I get either his mother or father on the phone? That says to me that they need to get their priorities straight."

Letting out a laugh, Boston crossed her arms over her chest. "I dare you to tell that to Detective Taylor's face." A look of disapproval flashed over Headmaster Charleston face and Boston realized she probably wasn't helping Gabe's situation. Putting on her best smile, she uncrossed her arms. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But I assure you that Gabe's father, mother, and I only have his best interests at heart. So, if you could just tell me what exactly Gabe did wrong and how you think best to address the situation, then I can go and talk to his mother and father about what we think is the best course of action."

* * *

A/N: We'll get to find out what Gabe did and see Mac's reaction in the next chapter, but I wanted to get this out so that the real Boston will stop nagging me to update (I hope you're happy, now get off my back!) And for those of you who read Shine Your Light, I will be updating _very_ soon.


	16. Questions and Answers

Claire rolled over in her bed and looked out the window. It was still dark outside. Looking at the clock she saw that it was nearing five in the morning. _Good_, she thought as she quickly got out of bed and pulled on the clothes that she had set out the night before, _Dad won't have left yet. And I didn't even need to set my alarm clock._ Smiling to herself she pulled on her sneakers and made her way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Mac looked up from the where he was pouring some coffee into a thermos when he heard someone walk into the kitchen.

Claire stopped at the edge of the kitchen and looked at her father with trepidation. She then straightened up, pushing her shoulders back, and met Mac's eye. "I wanna go with you." Despite her whispered voice, Mac could still hear the confidence in it.

Setting the coffee pot down, he turned to look at his daughter for a few moments. He had never taken anyone with him to Ground Zero on the anniversary of September 11th, not even Boston. But Claire was different. She had an obvious connection with the event and if she was old enough to ask, then she was old enough to go. Nodding his head, he reached into the cabinet and grabbed another thermos.

Claire saw her father's raised eyebrow as she filled the thermos with Mountain Dew. "What? You drink coffee, I drink the Dew."

Mac just nodded, quickly scribbling a note so no one would worry when it became noticed that Claire was gone, and grabbed the bag of muffins and fruit that Boston had packed the night before. When he was ready, he looked at Claire and gestured to the door with his head.

Claire realized that was his way of asking her if she ready. She didn't know what would come of this day, but her father was offering an opportunity to share an extremely intimate part of his life with her. She wasn't really sure if she was ready to see her father in this new light, but she also knew that she needed to learn about the other Claire, the real Claire. So, she slipped her hand into her father's free one and gave a simple, "I'm ready."

* * *

Thirty minutes later they were sitting on a bench that looked towards Ground Zero. They sat in silence for several minutes, Mac staring into the empty space with an unreadable expression on his face and Claire wondering what he was thinking.

Uncle Flack had told her once that he'd never play poker with her dad because he was never quite sure what Mac was really thinking. It had seemed funny to Claire at the time because her dad had always an open book to her. When he was proud his eyes beamed and he'd gently pat her on the shoulder. When he was angry the tiny vain in his forehead would pop out, he'd clench his jaw, and he'd stare at her through squinted eyes. And when he was sad or afraid or worried he'd sneak into her room while she was sleeping and stare at her. Then he'd walk over to her and pull her tight against his chest, not caring that he'd woken her up. This usually happened after a rough case and she could always hear his labored breathing, as if he was trying to stop himself from crying.

He wasn't a man of many words, but he showed his love, pride, and disapproval through his eyes. That's all Uncle Flack needed to know. Look into his eyes and you could tell exactly what Mac Taylor was thinking. But even knowing this, Claire dared not look in her father's eyes. She was afraid of what she might see.

So instead she used the time to look around. There were a few people milling around, staring aimlessly beyond the chain link fence, into the forever construction site. The day was still young and Claire knew that in just a few hours the area would be surrounded with mourners, politicians, and news cameras. But for now the area was eerily quiet and she noted how everyone seemed to respect the silence that the day deserved.

Claire wasn't sure how much time had passed before she heard her dad say, "You want to know about Claire." He spoke in an even tone and didn't turn to look at her, just kept staring at the empty abyss in front of him.

"What was she like?" He was quiet for a long time and Claire began to fear that she had over stepped a boundary.

Just when she had given hope, he started speaking. His voice was quieter now and wasn't as strong as she was used to. But he spoke in the slow, easy rhythm that she had grown accustomed to. "She was...one of a kind. She had this big, monstrous laugh. You could hear it from a mile away. She was really funny. Witty. And she'd crack herself up and start laughing mid-joke. She was passionate. About life, about work, about love. She used to say we were like yin and yang. I slowed her down and forced her to take a step back and think rationally. And she was there to liven me up and force me to act spontaneously...And she was beautiful."

Claire was sure that this was the most she had ever heard her father speak all at once. His voice seemed far off as if he was picturing her and going back to specific moments when they had been together. And it was slightly unnerving to hear her dad talk so affectionately about someone other than her mother. "Like Mom?"

For the first time, Mac looked over at Claire and smiled softly. He leaned back against the bench and threw his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "Yes and no." Claire wrinkled her nose at his answer, but he didn't see as he had turned back to look forward. "They are both drop dead gorgeous. And whenever I look at your mom, she takes my breath away; just like with Claire. But they 're beautiful in different ways. Claire was sophisticated. She was a business women and she loved nothing more than getting up, putting on a feminine suit and heels, and walking to Starbucks before heading here to work. She had this beautiful, long, wavy hair. It was so soft and I would spend hours just running my fingers through it...She was a city girl at heart. She only ever lived in Chicago and here and so she was always most confident in the city. Hailing cabs, riding the subway, pushing through crowds, yelling at bike messengers." He paused for a few moments, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Your mom's the exact opposite. She's a farm girl through and through. I was the one who actually taught her how to use the subway."

"Really?"

Mac nodded his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. She'd only been her for..." Mac paused to think about it, "maybe a month. And we'd only been dating a week or so. I gave her a tour of the city and took her on the subway for the first time. She was so afraid that she'd get lost and end up in Queens. Or that she'd get mugged. So, we spent the day riding the rails, learning how to navigate the city." Turning towards Claire with a wink, he slyly added, "But she still can't hail a cab to save her life."

"Do you like that mom's a farm girl? That she's different from, ya know, Claire?"

"I do. It's hard to explain, but I think your mom was exactly what I needed. She's the polar opposite of Claire, but she still lets me remember Claire at the same time."

"Like by naming me after her?"

"Yeah.

"It's weird. Ya know, thinking of you having a life before Mom." Mac looked Claire and gave a small smile. "Do you think it's weird for her?"

"I think…Your mom's a strong woman. Stronger than I am."

"That didn't really answer the question."

"No, I guess it didn't." Mac leaned back against the hard, wood bench. "I know she struggles with it sometimes. She wants me to be happy."

"And you were happy with the other Claire."

"Yes, I was."

"But you're happy with us, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"Did you love her more than you love Mom?"

"They're different people. I love them differently."

"What if Claire hadn't had died. Do you think you would've still met and fallen in love with Mom?"

Mac bit the side of his mouth, wondering if he should really tell his daughter the truth. How much did a thirteen year old girl really need to know about her parents' past? _Ahh, what the hell_. It was only natural that she'd be curious about the woman she was named after. "Probably not."

"Oh," Claire said softly. She pondered her next question for several minutes, and Mac was content in giving her some time. She finally turned to him with a confident look that he had seen many times before, on Boston's face. "Do you wish she was still here? That you were still married to her?"

"No…Yes…I don't know." Claire was stunned to hear her Dad utter those words. He was always so sure about everything. He was steady and strong and smart. And knew something about everything. Or so she'd thought. It was unnerving to hear him openly question his relationship with her mother.

As if he could read her mind, Mac gently enveloped her small hand and firmly added, "Don't ever doubt my love for our family, Claire. Your mom and you kids are the best things that could've happened to me. And none of this would have happened if Claire hadn't died and I didn't meet your mother."

"I think the she would've been proud of you, Dad."

Cracking a smile, Mac set his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close. "I think so, too, kid."


End file.
